


A Different Path

by QuickLikeLight



Series: And I’ve been looking at the stars [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Scenes, Multi, Writing Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 06:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4294608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/pseuds/QuickLikeLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of alternate or deleted scenes from Bonfire Hearts</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alternate Scene - Stiles and the Wolves

**Author's Note:**

> This scene is an alternate version of the scene wherein Jackson reveals Scott's feelings for Stiles. Originally, the kissing plan was Stiles' own. In the posted version of the fic, Stiles is far more disbelieving about Scott having feelings for him, and more concerned about Scott keeping secrets. Ultimately I thought the emotional impact of the secret keeping was more important for building tension in their relationship and for extending Stiles' hesitance to just make a move himself, but I still liked the banter in this version of the scene.

“Okay you bunch of mutants, all of you know something I don’t know and you’re going to tell me right now or I’m going to box you all in with mountain ash. After I get Jackson drunk.” Boyd’s face was eloquent in its terror at that idea, but it still took too long for anyone to speak up. Stiles glared. The wolves sat uncomfortably still, as if the very movement of their lungs would clue Stiles in to _the thing that they were obviously not going to fucking tell him_.

“Guyssssss,” Stiles felt himself whining as he pulled away from Erica. “What is going on? What’s wrong with Scott? Why is Erica touching me so much?” He pouted in her direction, then Boyd’s. “It’s weird. Weirder than normal werewolf too-much-touching.”

“She’s being a douche,” Boyd said simply. He turned to his girlfriend of four years and narrowed his eyes. “You’re being a douche.”

“Scott deserves it for being such a pansy,” Erica smiled, smug. She sank back against Boyd’s chest, letting him envelop her with strong arms, and stuck her tongue out at Isaac. “Even Eurotrash over there thinks so, don’t you boys?”

Stiles’ eyes darted between Boyd and Erica on his left and Isaac and Jackson on his right. He didn’t seek out Scott, in the far corner of the clearing with Kira and Malia. He didn’t have to; he’d had an awareness of Scott for so long that it barely even registered anymore.

“Scott’s a bit… shortsighted.” Isaac nodded, running his tongue over his teeth. “Doesn’t give us a right to get involved. Doesn’t give anybody a right to manhandle Stiles, either, especially...considering.”

“Technically I think it’s ladyhandling when Erica does it. And that’s not important. What’s important is - wait. _Considering._ Considering what?”

“Think about it, asshole,” Jackson rolled his eyes and took a large swig out of a pretentiously stereotypical red cup made of hard, dishwasher-safe plastic. A large white _J.M.W._ was emblazoned on the side.

“What do you think I’m fucking doing?” Stiles took an angry gulp of his own beer, sputtered and choked on it, and then followed it with a much more gentle sip. He was not even going to dignify that whole thing with a comment. _Moving right along_. “I’m saying to you, right now, that all of you know something I don’t because of some stupid werewolf mojo that I don’t have and-”

“Then use your goddamned brain, Stilinski!” Jackson growled. Isaac clapped a hand over Jackson’s chest and he instantly calmed, control aided by a packmate, an equal. “Scott’s our Alpha, and he is obviously uncomfortable enough to not say anything about it. But no one would _have_ to say anything if you just opened your eyes. It is literally right there in front of your stupid, slack-jawed face.”

“What Jackson means to say is,” Isaac gave him a reproving look before settling an arm around Stiles’ shoulders, “that we really shouldn’t tell you what Scott wants. But if you figure it out, we can help you find a way to give it to him.”

Stiles felt his face heat up as his brain assaulted him with various ways he could give _it_ to Scott: a blowjob in their little kitchen, handjobs in the shower, riding him in the sunny spot on the carpet under the window…

“Ahem.”

He snapped back to attention. The wolves all looked at him with varying degrees of disgust and discomfort on their faces. Well, everyone but Erica. She just grinned, one eyebrow raised.

“Sorry, sorry! Forgot about the whole… arousal...smelling thing,” Stiles covered his hot-flushed face with his hands. “It’s been a long fucking time, okay? Literally everything makes me think of sex.”

“He’s our Alpha, man,” Isaac complained, rolling his eyes in Erica’s direction. “This is like our mom wanting to bone our dad.”

“Not my Alpha,” Erica winked.

“Your mom?!” Stiles felt affronted. He hoped he looked affronted. There was fucking affront happening.

“Yes. If our mom was terrible at mothering, along with being an idiot who didn’t realize our dad was fucking in love with her-” Jackson stopped, paled, and immediately threw back the rest of his beer. Isaac sighed. Boyd groaned. Even Erica seemed suddenly tense.

“Wait. Wait.” Stiles blinked. His chest went tight, like he couldn’t breathe for a moment, and a laugh bubbled up without his permission. “Scott?”

“Smooth, jackass,” Erica hissed. Isaac rubbed at Stiles’ shoulders, spreading pack scent and soothing at the same time.

“What do you mean, ‘in love with’ me?” Stiles demanded, sloshing beer over his hand.

“It’s a little self-explanatory.” Boyd shrugged, never pulling his arms from around Erica.

“No, that can’t possibly be correct. Because if Scott said he was in love with me, that’d be one thing, but if Jackson says it, it probably means Scott’s secretly planning my death or something. Jackson cannot be trusted to even relay messages vaguely related to matters of the heart. Sorry bro.”

“Not your bro,” Jackson growled. “And I might not have always been the best beta, but I wouldn’t fuck Scott over by lying to you about something like that. He’s an idiot, but he’s still my Alpha.”

Stiles took a long drag off of his beer and winced at the taste, not quite cold enough even in the brisk night air. Around him, the betas waited with the air of anticipation that usually only came from impending fucking doom, and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Stiles frowned. “Do you think this could be just a territory thing, then? Maybe that’s why he didn’t want to tell me. Maybe he doesn’t want to-”

“I don’t think you could call it ‘just’ anything, Stiles. You didn’t see him,” Boyd’s voice was quiet, and Stiles leaned closer to hear him. “The night you went missing, you didn’t see his face. I think everybody knew then, including Scott.”

“Okay, but it’s December. He’s had months to think about this. And you guys might think that’s not completely abnormal, but we know Scott.  He never takes it slow. He’s all in, heart and head, immediately, every time. Why would he wait?”

Boyd grimaced, and Erica tipped her head back to kiss the underside of his jaw. “If he doesn’t want you to know, it’s because he’s doing what Scott does best.”

“Looking adorably determined?” Stiles threw it out there, just to see.

“Trying to protect you. Maybe from himself.”

Stiles tried not to sputter. “Trying to-  ugh, wait. How did _you_ see him? In the summer, I mean. Shouldn’t you have been with…?”  

“Derek? Yeah, we were, Erica and I both,” Boyd nodded slowly. “Scott came to the loft, looking for you. He was worried. You didn’t answer your phone and you were supposed to go see a movie, something you were excited about. Derek said you hadn’t been there all day, and he flipped out.”

“Like, wolfed out, or…?” Stiles wrinkled his forehead. He’d never asked Scott for specifics, or really concerned himself with what had happened before Scott and Derek found him. He’d sort of just assumed Derek was the one who noticed he was missing.

That… stung, a bit, actually.

Erica shivered and pulled Boyd down closer around her as she spoke. “I thought he and Derek were going to throw down, honestly, but Scott reined it in long enough to give us all directions and get out. He sent us all over the woods looking for you, but I think he had an idea of where you were all along.”

Stiles nodded, remembered thinking that _of course_ Peter wanted to do his dastardly deed at the Hale house, of course he wanted to add to the legacy of pain in that place with Stiles’ lifeblood.

“He didn’t want Derek to come. I’m not sure if it’s because he didn’t want any of us to see what was going to happen, or if it was because he blamed Derek for you being missing, even though he would never-”

“I know you have to defend your Alpha and all, but I’m pretty sure no one else in a thirty mile radius gives a fuck about what Derek would or wouldn’t do,” Jackson cut in. “Unless you conveniently forgot, Derek is the reason all of us have been tortured countless times, nearly killed on multiple occasions, and are in dire need of cognitive behavioral therapy. Well, okay, Isaac’s dad did not help, but that’s not the point. Derek may be a better Alpha now, but it’s not as if he cared a ton about Stiles before he found a use for him. Not like Scott.”

“Could we please not?” Stiles bit his lip as a flash of shame and hurt and anger welled up in him, before it subsided again under a sea of confused affection. What had happened with Derek was in the past, so long ago now that he rarely thought about it unless someone else brought it up, but Scott - well, that was here, now, the present, _a gift_. “Scott might actually. I just. He could… love… Wow. This is. I’m not sure I can…?”

““Is it weird?” Boyd asked, voice slow and careful. “Because you didn’t know he was gay, I mean.”

“Boyd!” Erica elbowed him none-too-gently and Boyd huffed. “Scott’s not gay. He dated Allison and Kira, and I’m pretty certain they aren’t dudes.”  
Stiles stopped, mouth falling open slightly. It was like ice water had been dumped over his head, dousing the little spark of warmth and hope that had blossomed in his stomach with brutal efficiency. Within seconds Isaac and Jackson each had a hand on his shoulders.

“No, he’s right. Scott’s not gay. Or bi. He’d - he’d tell us that, right? He’d say something. Scott’s straight. Scott’s _straight_.” He turned toward Jackson, face pinched. “That was fucked up, even for you.”

“Does that look like a joke?” Isaac manhandled him around to face Scott. Kira and Malia were obviously comforting Scott, hands patting at him hesitantly as he shook his head, shoulders slumped.

“But he’s - he’s never even -”

“Never?” Isaac asked, eyebrows high. “ _Never_. Really? Scott keeps secrets better than I’d thought.”

“Wait,” Erica laughed. “ _You_?”

“I mean… it was only once?” Isaac blushed hot and grinned at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. “Obviously it didn’t _go_ anywhere. But.”

“No,” Stiles gaped. “No. No no no. You are not telling me that my best friend, my - my - Scott. _My_ Scott. Slept with _you_. And didn’t _tell me_ about it.”

“I asked him not to.” Isaac scuffed his shoe against the ground. “We’d just found out Allison and Lydia were together. You were with Derek, and it was… I mean, I wouldn’t call it _sleeping_ together, but we did… help each other out. Once. Okay, twice. But then he told me we couldn’t again, because he’s my Alpha and he had feelings for someone else, and he felt wrong about it.”

“Of course he did. And you made him promise not to tell because…?”

“If you’d hooked up with a guy like Scott and he told you it couldn’t happen again, would you want people to know?” Isaac’s mouth turned in a grim little smile. “I’m not hung up on him or anything. I just didn’t want to be another failed romance for Scott McCall.”

“Yeah, well, who does?” Stiles sighed, glancing hurriedly at the trio of whispering supes in the garden corner.

“Is that something you think will happen?” Jackson spoke up, tilting his chin toward Scott. It was vaguely threatening, even with the ridiculous tracksuit on. “You planning to break his heart, Stilinski? Because best friend or not, Scott’s my Alpha, and I will personally -”

Stiles shook his head before he realized he was doing it. “No. I wouldn’t - I don’t want that to happen. Ever.”

“Sometimes heartbreak happens without anybody meaning for it to,” Erica said quietly, sliding her hand into Boyd’s. Stiles didn’t flinch. It was a close thing.

“You’re right. It does.” His thoughts whirred as he struggled to put the pieces together, wishing desperately for a cork board and some yarn. “ _If_ Scott cares for me like that, which I still am pretty doubtful about, by the way, and he isn’t having some sort of sexual identity crisis, but he doesn’t want me to know his feelings, then Boyd’s right. He’s protecting me from something. And until I can get him to tell me what that is, or even better, to just get over it, this is going nowhere.”

“So how do you plan to do that, Mr. Holmes?” Erica teased.

“Well, I could just ask, but from the way he was acting earlier I’m not sure he’d answer me at all, much less truthfully.” Stiles thought for a long moment, lips pursed and brow furrowed, before he smirked.

“I’m just going to have to make him kiss me. And you-” he looked meaningfully at his little cohort of betas, “- are going to help me out.”

 


	2. Alternate Scene - Scott follows Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Character Death and mild descriptions of violence. 
> 
> When I originally planned this fic, Scott was the one that followed Peter into the woods, not Derek. About halfway through writing it I realized that had Scott actually killed Peter (or anyone at all) the entire story would have to be about Scott dealing with his pain and guilt over taking a life, even one that was so obviously opposed to his existence. So, I changed it up, and it made a lot more sense. 
> 
> This still exists, though. I'm sure some of you have wanted to see this version of events go down, so here's a short little revenge killing.

Scott followed.

The woods whipped around him in bursts of brown and white. Peter had a head start, was tricky and devious, but Scott was stronger, faster, angrier. Peter had tried to take Stiles from him. After everything else - his pack, his power, his _humanity_ \- this was the thing that was too much. Well. Scott wasn’t surprised - he’d always valued Stiles higher than himself. The ground fell away under his feet and his eyes never left the back of Peter’s head for a second, growing closer all the time. Peter jerked left and right, trying to throw him off, but Scott never faltered. When he was finally close enough, he leapt, bringing them both crashing to the ground.

Later, when he found Stiles and Derek still sitting awkwardly outside the Hale house, he’d barely taste the metallic tang of Peter’s blood in his mouth. He wouldn’t see the battered face, or feel his claws sinking into flesh, or hear Peter’s heartbeat stuttering out. All he knew was Stiles. Stiles, scared and hurt and cold, wrapped up in his own limbs and stinking like Hale and magic and sadness, asking him, “Scotty, Scotty, take me home… Please, Scott, take me home.”

 


	3. Alternate Scene - The End of Truth or Dare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, the Truth or Dare scene extended in Stiles' POV to the beginning of Seven Minutes in Heaven, with this little bro-tastic interlude. I cut it because I wanted to see more of Scott's POV instead, but it makes sense and gives you a little insight into what was happening with Stiles before he told Scott they couldn't just skip the game and go talk privately. It wasn't just for plot purposes! Stiles was genuinely confused as to why Scott would want him to make up with Derek, and he doesn't realize the werewolf connection until he's in the closet with Kira and she asks about it.

In the kitchen, Isaac and Jackson worked in silent cohesion that always left Stiles feeling just a bit uncomfortable. Jackson stirred a bottle of homemade liquor into a punchbowl, Isaac scribbled something on strips of paper he’d painstakingly cut apart with his claws, and Stiles...

Stiles did his very best not to freak out about anything that had just happened.

“You’re freaking out about what just happened,” Jackson said, cool as a cucumber.

“A little,” Stiles allowed.

“That’s _a little_ dumb, since it already happened and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Jackson stirred fruit juice in with the liquor, pouring just a bit at a time until the pink-tinged concoction turned more orange.

“Well aren’t you just the pinnacle of fucking zen.” Stiles said it with a bit more venom than he felt, and Isaac’s eyebrows did the rest of the talking for all of them. “Okay fine so yes I am freaking out, and yes I know that’s stupid, considering, but no it doesn’t help any for you to point that out to me, and yes I have no idea why we’re making punch and cutting up strips of paper.”

“The punch isn’t for you. This is,” Jackson shoved a wine cooler at him and Stiles squinted at it. “The rest of the beer’s outside. Drink that and shut up.”

“The paper’s for the next game.” Isaac continued writing with a much more graceful hand than Stiles ever used.

“Oh. So. We’re, uh. Trying again, huh?” Stiles took a swig of the lemonade-flavored beverage and silently cheered. It tasted a lot better than the beer Jackson usually bought for parties.

“Did you want to stop trying?” Isaac asked, leaning heavily against the counter. His pen stilled as he watched Stiles’ face, not pressuring, just interested.

Did he want to?

Scott wanted someone like Stiles, maybe. His fantasy had been the hottest thing Stiles had ever heard, and the way Scott had looked at him after, flushed pretty pink and hopeful as he’d offered to call on Stiles next made it seem like maybe that was just for him, even if it had been delivered to a room full of people. But his relief at Stiles making nice with Derek, even as minimally nice as it was, was something else entirely.

“Why would Scott want me to make up with Derek?” he asked, words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Uh. I don’t think he wanted you to,” Isaac said, obviously off-balance. “He seemed ready to stop you, actually, in case you forgot.”

“No, he was ready to stop me from having to make the call. Once I did it, and was fine, he seemed… happy. Relieved. Like he wanted us to make up.”

Jackson hummed quietly as he tasted his own punch and then added an entire carton of cut strawberries to it.

“S’not all that surprising. McCall’s a big softie. Probably thinks if you make up with Derek and you guys get back together, you’ll both be happy again and he can continue to pine into eternity like a fucking Christmas tree.”

“Well that’s not happening,” Stiles snapped. “Like I already told Derek -”

“‘Not hating you doesn’t mean wanting to hang out,’ yes, we know,” Isaac soothed, which was a bit odd, but then Stiles caught the soft-sad look in his eyes and decided not to press. “There are other reasons Scott might want you to make up with Derek.”

"Like what?" Stiles asked, trying his best not to take out his irritation at the confusion, at the complete and utter lack of sense that it all made, on Isaac. Especially since, right now at least, Isaac was trying to be helpful. Or maybe knew something he didn't.

 "You should probably ask Scott that," Isaac shut down again, and Stiles let his head fall heavy against the counter. 

_Helpful_. Right.

**Author's Note:**

> Your feedback is valuable to all fic writers, and I'm no exception. If you enjoyed this story, please let me know.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://quicklikelight.tumblr.com).


End file.
